Seduction
by Ginyou Rinsom
Summary: Tasked with saving the Galaxy, finding an ancient super weapon and killing a Sith Lord. All in all, it seemed like a simple task. The real challenge came with dealing with his obstinate companion. Can the redeemed Darth Revan juggle fighting the darkside, defeating the Sith and still manage to ensnare Bastila with his charms and live happily ever after?


They had appeared out of nowhere, as if the wind cloaked their presence. He had sensed a disturbance however before he could react the air exploded around him, propelling his body through the air like a leaf. Crashing into the ground with an audible thud his world turned into nothing but a black abyss before the muddled rays of sunlight break through the meager canopy cover of the thicket he had landed. He felt heavy, as if his bones were made of metal, his vision hazy and obscured generating a vague picture as he cast his gaze to the scene unfolding before him, a trio of men clad in black; hoods and masks obscuring their features. Though similar in appearance, each held a weapon different from another.

A glowing red blade, suddenly met in fierce melee with another blade, this one yellow, twin beams of yellow intersecting off a single violet blade. To another, the clash would look like a dance; elegant professional moves, almost whimsical in nature. Ignorance that would and had cost many their lives. The deadly beams glancing off one another with a growl of sparks, hopping back the twin bladed wielder spins like a ballerina, stopping graciously a satisfied smirk crossing the combatant's lips. Serving only to agitate her assailant, his assault renewed with escalated ferocity.

Nearby another deadly frolic ensues, a single violet blade crossing with another red. Deadlocked the two combatants glare heatedly into each other's eyes, grunts and growls of exertion mixing with the echoing deadlock. The black clad combatant removes a single hand from his weapon, a foolish notion surely. It would seem no as an invisible force explodes from his hand pushing his adversary from the deadlock, however unlike the explosive force that struck him, this is simply dispelled and the assault continues anew.

A burst of rapid-fire cracks drowns out the melees as a red tinged figure unleashes a torrent of red bolts at an advancing foe. Each easily deflected with another of the red blades, with almost childlike giddiness the black robe stalks slowly towards the retreating gunner. A sudden lull in the fire briefly confuses the man before a sphere is lobbed at his feet, glancing down at the strange object with a cocked head he flinches in realization before propelling the object far to the side. The small sphere disappears from view but explodes with a concussive force that he could feel despite its distance.

Freeing his mind from the constraining cobwebs, he finally pushes off the ground, gripping a silver tube at his waist intent on joining the fray and assisting his comrades but before he could initiate his plan, a shadowy armored figure appears in his path, twin swords of menacing ruby aimed at him. "And where do you think you are going Jedi scum? To help them? They are quite busy with my students; you'll have to play with me instead." The armored man mocked slashing his double blade across the air, as if to illustrate his impending beheading.

With grunt, a cyan blade materializes from the tube humming in response to the armored man's threat; sharply inhaling he springs to his feet and besieges his opponent with a flurry of lightning quick slashes catching him off guard. Despite all his training, the armored man could barely keep from losing a limb as his enemy bombarded him with impossibly precise movements. It was incomprehensible; the reports clearly stated that his target was a neophyte, a padawan not three months out of the enclave yet his prowess with a Lightsaber seemed to be on par with his master. A desperate plan, drawing upon his power the armored fighter rips several small boulders from the ground and hurls them towards his assailant, instead of their desired effect the rocks serve as further ammunition. Responding with a similar burst, his own power dwarfing his own and rockets the mounds of stone back forcing the disciple of darkness to dissect them or risk injury.

* * *

A howl of pain as a one of the dark enemies collapses in a heap, a smoking wound across his chest, her enemy slain a pleasing growl escaping her lips. Casting her gaze around Juhani spies on her friends briefly as they engaged their fallen counterparts. Bastila holding her ground, her rumored skill clearly not exaggerated. A flash of movement catches her eye, her mentor, and informal master swiftly driving the dark apprentice back. His single blue saber crashing with swift and staggering blows against his twin crimson blades, one against two and still he could not be bested. The scent of molten metal and the familiar hiss of ruptured power cells alerts her sensitive senses from the engagement; twirling in place, she spies her blaster-wielding comrade losing his melee.

In a flash, her Lightsaber disappears from her hand, propelled by the force.

A red saber careens down desiring to split the head of the annoying droid that dared to stand against his dark master's whim. A flash of purple, a shower of sparks and before he could even process it, a feline woman appeared in front of him, a hand outstretched and brimming with power. The dark jedi was dead before his body impacted the rock face, adrenaline fueled force crushing the fallen Jedi's chest. With a huff of fatigue and satisfaction, Juhani casually catches the pitched saber from the air her victory however is truncated by her droid ally's gravelly synthetic criticism.

"Abrasive-Statement: Feline-Meatbag, I required no such assistance. In the future, refrain from slithering near me. The constant sloshing of your fragile organs makes me wish I could press a blaster pistol to my behavior core and pull the trigger."

Snarling at the droid's blunt and odd comment Juhani gazes back and forth between her mentor and Bastila, unsure whom to assist. The Force seemed to direct her decision as the fallen dark Jedi's Lightsaber rattles in his hand before being ripped from his grasp and flung across the field, right into her mentor's hands. With another blade in his grasp, his assault on the dark apprentice doubles driving the fallen jedi to backpedal swiftly to avoid the numerous strikes.

It was clear that he needed no assistance, capturing the assassin droid's attention she directs him to assist the struggling sentinel. Growling loudly when the droid plainly states with a caustic attitude that she was not his master and would refuse to listen to her.

Pulling a pistol from a spare compartment, he slowly stalked towards the duel, ignoring the hissed Cathar expletive the droid made his way towards his master, intent on rendering his assistance should he require it. Juhani still cursing the droid under her breath dashed as quickly as her legs would take her towards Bastila, violet saber ablaze in her hand Malak's minions would not take her friends from her; they had already taken her homeworld not another damn thing would be taken from her.

That was her plan; however, plans rarely succeed on the battlefield. A gale of energy erupts around her, lifting her feet from the soil and tossing her back crashing heavily into the corpse of her slain foe. His attention no longer divided the Sith acolyte rears his hand back and strikes the Jedi fiercely across the face sending the padawan sprawling to the dirt, lightsaber clattering away from her grasp. A sinister chuckle as he steps on the hand reaching for the weapon. She would not get the better of him this day. Lord Malak wished her capture and what the Sith Lord desired it was his duty to fulfill.

* * *

Bandon could not fathom it, he was Lord Malak's Shadow Hand, second in command of the entire Sith Empire and Lord Malak's personal apprentice, and yet, some tenderfoot was not only holding his own but also summarily picking apart his defense. Bandon's thoughts, distracted allowed the Jedi to twist the cyan saber in his hand, a feat of dexterity common to those imbued in the force, boldly whipping the blade up catching the Darth in mid-form. The plasma weapon separating the exotic weapon diagonally through the metal housing, half of the felled weapon dropping to the dirt uselessly spouting sparks, the other grasped tightly in the Sith's hand, startled and knocked off balance by the Jedi's prowess a maelstrom of various counters and tactics flood Bandon's mind as the Jedi posed to strike him down.

A subtle reflection of light, an approaching rust colored droid brandishing a heavy blaster pistol. Perfect. Reaching out with the Force the dark apprentice latches onto the droid's chassis and with a tug the assassin machine advances, faster and in a position not of his liking.

His opponent narrows his eyes as Bandon's lips form into a smirk, realization dawns upon him as he twists his body to evade the incoming projectile but even with his natural skill it is too late. The humanoid machine colliding with the Jedi, sending them both sprawling to the ground, its thick heavy durasteel body pinning the Jedi Padawan to the ground.

"Damnit HK! Get the hell off me!"

The Jedi's panic served to delight the Darth but instead of finishing the padawan off he stalked away towards his sole living acolyte. With a sharp swipe of his hand, he called the fallen jedi off and kneeled down to examine the defeated Jedi woman's features. She was attractive, he idly mused hoping his lord would allow him time to play with her before or after he was finished with her, it did not matter which. Feisty or broken meant little to him. A cruel thought passed his mind, it was oh so delightful to watch these pathetic light sided fools squirm.

Grasping one of her braids Bandon hefts the female to her feet pleased with the way she howled in pain, "Scum! Cease your napping and watch as I play with your comrade, she is quite." Burying his nose into her hair he inhales deeply, her disgusted shiver and flailing serving to arouse him further. "The fine specimen, for a Jedi. Perhaps after we break her she will serve to bear us many more strong Sith."

Laughing derisively as her pathetic attempt to kick him she wrenches her hair strongly, eliciting another cry of pain. Oh, how he hoped that the Jedi was listening inventively, nothing was quite as sweet as breaking a Jedi's resolve and faith.

'_Bastila!'_

It came rushing back to him, sounds of battle, and cries of those in the throes of death. Then sights, butchered bodies, smoldering corpses those riddled with blaster marks and puncture wounds, the smell of death permeating through a soaked and worn battlefield. Then seemingly, at once, he heard it. Sounds of terror, pain, and anguish. To the victor, go the spoils. Pillaging by the invading force, taking whatever they deemed of value; credit, artifact, and slaves.

A commodity that transcended all races and cultures, carnal and filthy desires taken out upon the broken and captured.

These memories, familiar and foreign fueling his rage and hate, his true power bubbling to the surface.

The Force bubbling off his form, raising like wisps of smoke tangible to those even deafened to the Force, drawing the attention of the Sith. Then, without warning, it exploded out with a force of a starship engine sending the assassin droid barreling through the air. The Jedi's hands moving faster than the eye can perceive flicks his sabers forward, jetting them towards his hated enemies. These foul Mandalorians, the audacity, they dared to lay their filthy hands upon his family.

Bandon barely had time to deflect the projectile before it cleaved his head from his shoulders; his companion however is not as astute. The crimson saber effortlessly slicing through the armor weave hood and flesh, the acolyte's head rolling a short distance from his body, a bewildered look forever etched into his features. Forcing his gaze back to the assailant Bandon readies himself for the Jedi's charge, however nothing greeted him the spot where he had stood lay empty.

A tugging sensation in the back of his mind alerted him to a presence. Above! Falling towards him, robe bellowing out like a cape, the Jedi lands heavily on Bandon's shoulders, knocking the Dark Lord and his captive to the ground. The wind knocked from his lungs Bandon barely had time to process this new development before a pair of hands gripped his head, fingers digging into his skin. Stifling a grunt of pain, he opened his eyes to see two color irises glowering into his own, fierce and wild eyes of ice and amber full of hate and accusations.

"Mandalorian scum! You. Will. Not. You will not take them from me again!"

Confused by the accusation, Bandon was no Mandalorian. Any further thoughts that the Sith Apprentice had flew from his mind, an accustomed sound that brought him many hours of joy as he unleashed it upon his enemies. Now, it filled him with horror. Beside him, his former captive stirred, forcing her stunned mind to clear as she focused her gaze on the scene unfolding before her, she had felt it that same time as he had. Their bond had made sure she did, memories of his former life those that the council had worked tirelessly to hide from him. His hate and desperation drawing the fragments out from the deepest reaches of his subconscious, the horrors he had witnessed committed by the Mandalorians now clouding his judgment and fueling his rage.

"Macen! Stop!" Bastila had to stop him, she didn't want to think what could happen if his memories returned. She couldn't lose him now, not after everything they had been through.

Electricity, arching wildly from the padawan's forearms, crackling menacingly searching for a conduit to the earth. Directed by the will of the Force the lightning surged forward, erupting from his fingers and into the vulnerable flesh of the Sith. His screams drowning out Bastila's horrified plea, his skin blistering and cracking as the energy coursed through his body, the armor that protected him so faithfully from all manner of outside strife amplified his death. The bouncing energy ricocheting within his shell cooking and shriveling his organs, before it erupted from his feet, the circuit complete the powerful force lightning dissipated harmlessly into the soil. The former Dark Jedi now nothing more than a smoldering smoking husk, thrown pathetically away, small amounts of the charged attack crackling still across his metal suit.

Wheezing heavily and sweating profusely the Jedi Padawan stares blankly down at his kill, adrenaline still pumping through his veins, his thought slowly clearing. Rationality seeping back to the forefront of his mind, craning his head to the side he stares longingly at the woman who had accompanied him through so much. Reaching towards her hand shaking from the rush of battle, he mouthed her name before the strain claimed him eyes glassing over he cannot halt his body from careening to the grass below .

"Macen!" Crawling to him, she cradles him in her arms, fearfully checking his pulse. Strong and rapid, the heat of the fight still coursing through his system, relief floods her, escaping as a laugh pressing his head to her chest. Muttering soothing words to his unconscious form she holds him close for a moment longer. The ecstasy of his safety wearing off she clumsily pulls the clipped communicator from her belt, depressing the large button she hurriedly speaking into it.

"Carth! Carth, come in damnit!"

Static greeted her briefly before the baritone voice of the Hawk's pilot erupts from the device, "Yeah jeez, what is it Bastila?"

"Bring the Ebon Hawk here immediately! We have wounded."

A slight scuffle on the other side of the line, "What?! Who's hurt?

"CARTH!"

"R-right." The beeps of the cockpits console and various other sounds signal his takeoff. "On my way, ETA two minutes; Mission, Jolee. Prep the Medical bay, we have wounded incoming."

A sigh of relief and the communicator drops onto the ground, forgotten. Cupping his face she tenderly strokes her thumb over the thin scar across his lips, he once claimed it was an accident during his Republic training but she knew better. The Sith wouldn't take Macen from her this day, and that was all that mattered to then, the concerns of the galaxy forgotten to the woman hopelessly in love with the amnesic former Lord of the Sith. The familiar sounds of the Ebon Hawk's engines and the whine of metal as the landing struts met the field do not shake her from her thoughts, only when Carth's concerned shouts reaches herears does she look up from Macen's face.

* * *

_Hours Later.  
_

* * *

Lights, dimmed so that barely a thing could be seen, situated at the head of the bunk a figure cradling another's head in her lap, fingers pressed against his temples. Both pair of eyes shut as if asleep, serenely shut off from the surroundings a meditative trance assisting her task. Before the group had departed Dantooine Master Vandar beckoned her aside, he explained to her of a technique which she may need to use during their quest. Comparable to the techniques used to seal his memories after his capture, the trance would help Bastila once again isolate and anchor the former Sith's past should it unexpectedly manifest. Like putting away a puzzle, she forcibly suppressed the resurfaced memories of the Mandalorian War, back into the deepest recesses of his mind where she hoped that they would remain, never to return. Never to plague the man now known as Macen.

A groan and the stirring of her companion breaking her from the force trance, opening her eyes she is met by his, icy blue and orange-amber irises peering mystified through fluttering lashes into her own grey eyes. Despite herself, she couldn't help but smile, which he returned in earnest before realization steels his features and tenses his muscles trying to push up from the bed despite the protest of his body.

A small but strong hand pushes him back down, her soft voice shushing any protest; "It's alright Macen, everyone is safe. Rest."

Calming his mind and breathing he allows his weary body to relax, the recent battle having took a much more demanding toll on him than he realized. Staring back up at the woman whose lap now nestles his head he allows the content smile to return in full force, ignoring his displeased muscles Macen extends his hand to caress her cheek. Frowning when she flinches, despite the low light he spies the red mark and bruise blooming on her cheek, his anger at the Sith returning.

Sensing his souring mood through their bond Bastila removed his hand from her face and clasped it within her own, placing her lips upon the distinct blemish covering most of his hand. A grievous wound he suffered freeing her from the Black Vulkers, despite his bravado and posturing she knew it still pained him to the day.

That brought the smile back to his lips, his mouth opened to speak, but only a hoarse cough comes forth. Bastila's calm healing trance had helped alleviate most of the fatigue and wounds they both suffered during the scuffle but failed to correct everything. Grasping his chest as the convulsions increase in ferocity Bastila rises from the bunk to grab a glass of water; a hand grasping her arm halted her quest turning to look at him in confusion.

Shaking his head, he pulls her back towards the bunk, any resistance long since crumbled by the Jedi's charisma and silver tongue. Settling comfortably in his arms, he rests his forehead against hers, staring fondly into her silvery eyes, "All I need is you Bastila." Leaning forward he captures her lips with his own and lingers, shortly reminiscing about their first true kiss. A dark cramped cave on the Wookiee homeworld, in the heat of an argument they had confessed their feelings for one another and had expressed it with a kiss. Bastila, flustered and unsure of herself, had backpedaled trying to dissuade further intimacy with claims of their mission and the Jedi teachings. He was certain that had they been anywhere else, she would certainly have fled, but their current prison trapped her, and after a bit of persuasion and feathery kisses she succumbed to his charm and returned his affection in earnest. Had they not been rescued moments later he was sure that they would have pressed further and let their true desires overcome their judgment.

Laying his head back upon the pillow, he allows the creeping darkness of fatigue to claim his conscious as his lover nestled against his side. Her pleasant warmth further assisting his descent into slumber. The last words he heard before succumbed was her tender declaration.

"I love you Macen Raith…"

* * *

**A new story, this time based off Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic. For those of you wondering about my other two stories; Fate is being worked on while Requiem is at a standstill. They'll get done, sooner or later but for now. This.**

**Macen Raith is the name of my Revan, a tall human Jedi Guardian with raven black hair and a scruffy beard. He has complete heterochromia if you couldn't tell by the description of his eyes. Ice blue right Iris and Orange-Amber left. While I know canonically, Revan was said to have Brown hair and eyes and according to him, he was; "unremarkable" and "average". This is my story and he is a handsome raven-haired dual eye colored Jedi machine, everyone else is just jealous of his super jedi swagger.**

**Gotta love Team Four Star. **

**Anyway, In my latest Save of KOTOR 1 I finished (Started?) Basitla's romance at the end of Kashyyyk so I let them start their little dance trapped in a cave, because Bastila couldn't run away she gave into his advances and thusly she will be a little more open to him romantically but she will still be a bit prudish and shy. **

**That is all for now, as always I hope you enjoyed and feel free to leave a review, I could always use a good critique. **


End file.
